


A Thousand Lives

by meandmysarcasm



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Books, Dark Castle, F/M, Reading, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6914752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meandmysarcasm/pseuds/meandmysarcasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It began as a bit of a game. Belle French leaves her books lying around the Dark Castle and though Rumplestiltskin grumbles about it, he also always ends up discussing the books she likes. But when Belle leaves a particular book lying around, things begin to heat up. Set sometime after the Robin Hood encounter.</p><p>I'm kinda ignoring the idea of TLK in this one, just because it's really difficult to write Dark Castle smut with TLK waiting in the wings. Also, not sure about the rating here since this is the first time I've written mature content. So let me know if it needs a rating change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Game of Wit and Words

It began as a bit of a game.

The first time Belle finished a book and left it on the dining table, she didn't think anything of it. One more chapter obsession hit her around midnight and so she'd kept on reading through the night, not noticing the banking fire burning to cinders or the faint light of dawn creeping through the windows. Once she'd finished the book, Belle let out a contented sigh and-- bone weary-- stumbled off to her bedroom.

For once, Rumplestiltskin didn't send a wisp of his magic to wake her up, so by the time Belle woke and hurried down to the main room, she'd truly forgotten that she'd broken a cardinal rule. 

Despite owning a treasure trove of strange trinkets, Rumplestiltskin hated clutter. Everything in its proper place he'd said, often enough for the words to sear themselves into her brain. From his weird golden fleece [which he promised to tell her about, but never did] to his spinning wheel, everything belonged in an exact spot. And woe betide anyone who messed that up.

So Belle supposed she shouldn't have been surprised when she breezed into the main room-- pretending the noise in the distance wasn't the grandfather clock chiming noon-- only to find a certain Dark One looking less than amused.

Truth be told, something about the way he lounged in his chair, turning it into a throne, made Belle’s stomach squirm. She instantly shoved the thought into a box at the back of her mind and locked it. Tight. It wouldn’t do to have those feelings running rampant. She was only too aware that her stares in Rumplestiltskin’s direction were becoming… covetous. It didn’t help that he seemed to have a penchant for leather pants, which clung to him in ways that made Belle gulp. So far she’d told herself it was a silly little crush, meaningless really. And of course the object of her dangerous thoughts would be Rumple, considering he was the only living soul she came into contact with. Besides Robin Hood, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d spoken to someone outside of the castle grounds.

Probably her family. Belle shut that thought away too. The idea of them, continuing with their lives in Avonlea, made her homesick. Still, she had agreed to live with Rumplestiltskin, who made her laugh with his quips and occasionally, actually did something kind. Sometimes, when she couldn’t sleep, Belle remembered the hug she gave him when he decided to let Robin Hood and his wife go free. She recalled the brief press of his hips and the warmth of his breath against her shoulder in a way that never ceased to make her blush.

No, it absolutely didn’t mean anything. 

Rumplestiltskin coughed and Belle crashed back into the present.

“Daydreaming, dearie?” He asked.

She would have to be a fool not to recognize that mock-pleasant tone for the anger it contained. Still, Belle knew the best defence against it was to simply ignore it. Often, that would confuse him. Today though, it just seemed to annoy him even more.

“When I gave you use of the library, I told you that everything would have to stay clean and tidy,” he hissed. For the first time, Belle noticed the book in his hand. His glittering gold fingers held it tight, the title hidden from view.

She groaned.

“I was tired,” she explained, trying her best to keep her tone even. This obsession with tidiness was beginning to get on her nerves. Honestly, she could understand why he liked his knick-knacks in place; magical possessions needed to be stored correctly to avert disasters, but Belle drew the line at the library. Books were meant for reading, not for looking prim and proper on their shelves.

Rumplestiltskin seemed to sense her mutinous thoughts. He leaned forwards in his chair and clucked at her. The smirk he wore seemed calculated to drive her mad.  
At least it meant that he had swallowed his irritation. Now his tone sounded almost playful. His ability to change moods, quick as a whip, never ceased to startle her.

“My, my. If you were going to leave books scattered all over the castle, you could at least choose decent ones. Wuthering Heights? I’ve never read so much rubbish in all my life.”

Even though she knew he was baiting her, Belle couldn’t help but gasp. “Rubbish? It’s a brilliant book.”

Rumplestiltskin looked bored. He flicked his wrist—causing a tea set to appear out of nowhere—and poured himself a drink. Belle tried not to notice that he used the chipped cup. He gestured at her to take a little cake from the plate that materialized next to the teapot as she slid into the chair opposite his. 

His smile was teasing, taunting. “What on earth makes you think that?”

Belle narrowed her eyes at him. She nibbled at the slice of cheesecake as she thought it over.

“Cathy is a terror, but she makes an interesting character. She’s allowed to run riot and I think that is really amazing, considering how females are usually portrayed in books. And Heathcliff loves her for it, even though it’s a part of her that most men would try and restrain.”

She clamped her teeth together, even as the memory of Gaston crossed her mind. Rumplestiltskin’s eyes glittered, like he knew exactly what she was thinking. If Belle didn’t believe that doing so would tip his mood all the way back to furious, she would have tipped her tea over Rumplestiltskin’s head. But there were some things you simply didn’t do to the Dark One.

“She is a force to be reckoned with,” he allowed, sipping from the chipped cup. “But didn’t you find it tiring, all that romantic pandering where she obsessed over her soul being tied to his? All that I cannot live without my soul nonsense?”

Belle set down her teacup with a little more force than was necessary. 

“On the contrary, I thought it was very moving.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that the kind of thing that woos you, Belle?”

She felt her heart tremble and stop for a moment. The room seemed a little too warm as she stared at the table top, pretending the pattern of whorls on the surface was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. 

“Perhaps,” she allowed, speaking in a small quiet voice as she fought back a blush.

To her surprise, Rumplestiltskin’s breathing changed. It was only a small intake of breath, but in the hush of the room it sounded like thunder.

His next words were soft as velvet. “Did Gaston quote such nonsense to you?”

Belle didn’t think she’d imagined the challenge in his voice. She forced herself onto her feet, pushing back her chair with a squeak. Only then did she meet his eyes. They were wide and curious. Gazing into them made her momentarily brave. She drew herself up to her full height as she passed him and waited until she was at the opposite end of the room to call back to him.

“Of course not. I don’t imagine Gaston ever actually read.”

And on that note she stalked out of the room, feeling Rumplestiltskin’s gaze on her the entire time.

That was how the game began.


	2. A Game of Cat and Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Rumple begin to fall into the habit of discussing the books Belle leaves around the Dark Castle. But as their games grow bolder and bolder, she struggles not to cross the line.

After that initial discussion, it became almost second-nature for Belle to leave books scattered around the Dark Castle. She hid them on mantelpieces, placed them on side tables and desks and stools, set them down when she served meals and conveniently ‘forgot’ to pick them up again. Each one was carefully selected for the romance held between the pages. And though Rumplestiltskin grumbled about them being out of place, he always seemed to have an opinion on them when she met him for breakfast.

Oh, she knew deep down that it was only a bit of flirting, of course. The idea of Rumplestiltskin being interested in her, let alone acting on it, was beyond even her wildest dreams. Still, Belle trawled the library for books that would make his eyes roll. Not that she read them only to keep up this strange game with the Dark One though. Belle really was entranced by the stories of star-crossed lovers and all-consuming kisses. These were precisely the kinds of books her father transferred out of the library in Avonlea after her mother’s death. At the time, he insisted that romance novels were indecent and would horrify anyone considering asking for Belle’s hand. Personally, she suspected that he just didn’t want her asking awkward questions.

Whatever the reason, she had access to them now. So she devoured them, one after the other, pages and pages of proposals and ardent confessions. Whenever she could grab a moment between the chaos of cleaning and maintaining the Dark Castle, she snuggled up in her reading spot and opened up a new selection.

Still, she took great care not to overstep the mark. At breakfast, she never asked him which part of the new book had caused his chuckles to escape from his room at night and find Belle. Something about them sounded too free, too intimate, like walking in on him only half-dressed. So she kept silent about them and let him taunt her with his fake disinterest.

That didn’t mean to say that Rumplestiltskin didn’t take some liberties, though.

One day, she opened her armoire to discover a dress almost precisely like the one she pictured Anna Karenina wearing when she first met Count Vronsky. Odd, that he would come to the same conclusion, the same ideas for the style and color. A ridiculous dress, far more suited to a ball than for dusting down a castle. Belle still spent several moments running her hands over the rich red fabric, admiring the way the hem dipped over one shoulder in a way that was almost risqué. He meant it as a challenge, of course. To see what she would do. To see if Belle was bold enough to switch out the simple white blouse and blue dress she wore for the kind of dress that belonged to her old life.  
In the end, she wore it to breakfast.

He was already sat at the table, his plate and tea untouched. Waiting for her to join him, perhaps. The idea sent a thrill through her veins, especially when she caught a glimpse of his shocked expression as he admired the dress.

Belle smirked as she took her seat and nibbled at a piece of toast.

“Hmm, I’m beginning to think that I did young Gaston a favour when I spirited you away from him, Miss French.”

Belle squirmed in her chair, glaring at the floor. The notion that Rumplestiltskin might regret their deal had never entered her mind before. Now that it did, she found it oddly worrying, like a loose tooth she couldn’t stop pressing her tongue against.

But that tone… She recognized the teasing note to it.

“Oh?”

Rumplestiltskin’s fingers twitched over the arm of his chair. In the silence, Belle wondered if he could hear her heart hammering against her ribcage. To her, it sounded like the loudest thing she’d ever heard. Blood rose to her cheeks. Perhaps she would have held her emotions in check better if she hadn’t felt his eyes upon her. They noted every tiny movement.

Reptilian eyes. And yet the way in which they focused on her trembling fingers and flimsy smile reminded Belle more of a man than a beast.  
Rumplestiltskin let the silence grow and grow until Belle could barely stand it. Just as she contemplated flinging down her fork and escaping the room, he finally deigned to speak.

“Yes,” he said, drawing the word out. He clicked his fingers and the latest of Belle’s reads appeared on the table before them. “I’m not entirely sure he would have survived being married to you. If your reading tastes are any indication, you are utterly insatiable.”

Belle’s jaw dropped. As she tried her hardest to piece together enough of her mind to form a reply her eyes alighted on the book.

The book that she had placed back on the shelf as discreetly as she could, her cheeks hot as coals.

The one book that she most definitely had not given to Rumplestiltskin.


	3. A Game of Lust and Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle tries to hide her embarrassment at Rumplestiltskin seeing the book she'd been hiding from him. But what exactly is he going to do with that knowledge?
> 
> P.S. The smut begins here...

Every possible comeback fled from Belle’s mind as she stared at the book. She vividly recalled placing it back on the shelf, she knew she wasn’t going crazy.  
Which meant…

…Which meant that Rumplestiltskin had been watching her that day, making note of what she’d been reading. 

Shame warred with a strange sense of elation in her stomach. Belle imagined a swarm of butterflies swooping around in there. But the idea of prodding at that feeling, of uncovering it piece by piece to see what it meant was something she couldn’t dare to do.

“I put that book in the library,” she said. She wondered if she stared long enough at the book if she could make it burst into flames so they could pretend this conversation never happened.

It defied her wishes, sitting on the flat of Rumplestiltskin’s hand. It looked so innocent; pure white like a bridal dress, gold gilt along the edges. But inside… Inside it was pure smut.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled and wagged a finger at her. “A library which just happens to belong to me. You’ll soon learn Dearie, that I know every little thing that happens inside this castle.”

Though she was tempted to glance up at him, Belle kept her gaze fixed on the book. Safer that way, she told herself. Only her foot under the table—circling with nerves—could give her away. Still, Rumplestiltskin’s lip quirked up as though he could read her mind. Or perhaps he could hear her heart thundering from across the table. Whatever the cause of his mirth, she didn’t dare question it.

Belle scrambled for something to say in the face of that wicked humour.

“I didn’t actually read it, you know,” she said, fighting to keep her voice light and breezy. But she knew as soon as the words were out of her mouth that Rumplestiltskin could taste her lie underneath them.

He clicked his tongue. “Oh, now I don’t think that’s true at all.”

“No?” 

Her throat tightened.

“No,” he confirmed and his voice sounded like silk against her skin. “No, I think you read every single page of this book.”

Belle shrugged. If he was prepared to play games with her, well then she would just have to make sure she won. Something about his teasing made her want to bare her teeth at him. She would not back down.

Not even when she heard his chair scrape back.  
Not even when she heard the heels of his boots click against the floor, or when they came to a halt just behind her.

“Like I said, I’m beginning to think I did Gaston a favour,” he said, leaning in so that his breath whispered against the shell of her ear. Belle couldn’t stop the tingle that ran down her spine at the closeness. All it would take is a slight turn of her head and those lips would be pressed against her skin.  
Belle clamped down on that thought. 

Rumplestiltskin laughed. It wasn’t the high-pitched giggle she’d heard back in Avonlea, when she agreed to his deal. No, this was almost a growl. She could almost feel its timber reverberating in her bones, sending her mind down a very dangerous path.

He dropped the book on the table in front of her with a heavy thud. Belle flinched at the sound. The book fell open down the middle, revealing a passage that had caused her to get up and lock the library door when she’d first read it. In that scene, the king had seduced one of his sister’s ladies in waiting. It was the part where he’d caught her alone in a hallway and tried to tempt her into his bed, his hands skimming over her breasts and dipping lower so he could tease her with his fingers and…  
Belle suddenly seemed very aware of Rumplestiltskin as he leaned even closer, planting a hand on either arm of her chair. She could see the rise and fall of his chest, the strangely enticing curve of his throat and, of course, the wicked grin on his face.

It was a grin that spoke of dark, dark, mischief.

“I think I did him a favour because good little wives don’t read such scandalous things, Miss French,” he continued. His eyes were fixated on her slightly parted lips. “And because we both know that poor Gaston would never have been able to satisfy you.”

Gods. The double meaning of Rumplestiltskin’s words threatened to undo her. Still, she feigned innocence. Belle wanted to hear him spell it out to her.

“Is that so?” She could barely keep her voice from trembling. 

Rumplestiltskin ran a thumb through a loose strand of her hair. She closed her eyes at the contact, feeling it skim over her temple and cheek, following the line of her throat. It brushed over her collarbone and hovered there for a moment before ascending again. At last, he pushed his thumb against the underside of her chin, just hard enough to force her to meet his eyes.

His gaze, Belle noticed with a flutter, was utterly predatory.

“Yes,” he growled. “But I have someone else in mind.”

She flashed him a coy smile and raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

This time he didn’t reply. Instead he jerked her chin up even higher and crushed his lips to hers.


	4. A Game of Hands and Mouths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Rumple finally give in to temptation...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, but I promise there'll be more on the way reeeeaaallll soon...

Surprise made her open her mouth and Rumplestiltskin’s tongue darted inside, caressing her own. His kiss set her nerves on fire, every inch of her skin screaming to be pressed against him. He tasted of tea and sugar, with an undercurrent of spice that made her head whirl. She almost sobbed when he broke away from her and stared at her for a long moment. Each heartbeat spent waiting was an agony. 

But then his lips curled into a smirk and he pulled her chair out. The legs screeched along the floor as he turned it to face him and then he was kissing her again. His hands roamed over her shoulders, trailing a heat that Belle had never felt before. He dragged his lips down her throat and she couldn’t help but tremble. He chuckled against her skin, his mouth moving lower and lower, his hands following. When his fingers brushed the neckline of her dress, Belle arched her back. Rumplestiltskin clucked his tongue at her just before his clever hands slipped beneath the material and found her breasts.

If the world had ended at that precise moment, Belle didn’t think she would care. He flicked a thumb across the nipple of her right breast, cursing at the tight material of her dress for restricting his movements. Belle reached behind her back and yanked at the tie holding her dress together. It came loose almost immediately. She watched his chest hitch as he drew in a surprised breath—evidently he’d been expecting her to pull away by now. The knowledge pained her; in spite of all her reading, she didn’t know how to put her longing for him into words. Instead, she tried to show him with her body, slanting her lips across his again and again. As she did, she reached down to pull her dress over her head but Rumplestiltskin’s hands caught hers and trapped them by her sides. He eased himself onto his knees before her chair.

And then his warm breath was tickling her neck as he guided his mouth across her skin. He tugged at her earlobe with his teeth. 

“Not so fast,” he said and Belle was thrilled to detect a trace of hoarseness in his tone. His words caused something in her stomach to tighten.

Rumplestiltskin slid a hand down her side, tracing circles with his thumb against the silk material of her dress. It was maddening. Belle had never noticed how sensitive her skin could be, especially not in places as mundane as her arm or her waist, and yet his touch made her bite her lip to keep from gasping. At last, just as she wondered if it were possible to turn to ash from longing, his fingers reached the hem of her dress and eased under it. The material gathered around her hips as he revealed her legs, inch by inch. He spread his hands across her stomach, his thumbs meeting at her belly button before moving up to cup her breasts again. 

Belle arched her back to push them against his hands. He dipped his mouth to her left nipple, tongue circling as he squeezed her other breast with his free hand. Belle’s hands were still by her sides, bunching the fabric of her dress into fists. He kept his mouth on her as he shuffled a little closer. Her legs parted and he slid between them, still sucking and licking, his tongue scraping over her sensitive skin until she couldn’t help but moan.

The sound made him pause. He pulled back, his teeth grazing against the underside of her nipple. His eyes were glazed over with desire as he smiled at her and when he spoke his voice was so low that she felt it rumbling against her stomach. 

“Was that the part you enjoyed reading most?” He asked. 

His hand began to move again, sliding down to grip her thigh. He’d moved back again, giving himself room. Belle made a noise of protest that turned into a gasp as he stroked the top of her thigh, his fingers climbing higher and higher. Already, she could feel a growing ache and she willed his touch to creep further up her legs. As though he could read her mind, Rumplestiltskin nudged his hand between her thighs, parting them.

“Answer me, Dearie. Was that the part you liked best, or was it something else?”

Belle gasped as he slipped a finger inside her.


	5. A Game of Love and Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, the true depths of smut...  
> Meanwhile, Belle begins to realize her feelings for Rumple don't just run to lust as he reveals his vulnerable side.
> 
> PS. This is my first venture into the Land of Smut, so please let me know if I'm doing okay/need to change anything...

The noise she made was more animal than human. Rumplestiltskin kissed her, wanting to swallow up her whimpers so he could keep them somewhere safe and replay them over and over again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so aroused. Everything, from the sight of her dress bunched up around her waist to the feel of her, hot and slick, made him want to drag her out of that chair and make love to her on the floor.

And perhaps he would, but right now he was savouring the way her eyes were already beginning to glaze over, her lips parted and reddened. He curled his finger inside her, watching her squirm, trying to grind against his touch. She was so wet already, her body giving away her own arousal. 

It felt odd to see her like this, groaning at his touch. For so many nights he’d lain awake, dreaming of this until he woke up hard and half-ashamed. And lately those dreams had wandered into his waking thoughts too, so that it seemed like every single move she made was seared into his memory. Rumple had tried to push these illicit thoughts away as best he could. She was his maid, after all, only there because of a deal. The growing need he felt in her presence was off-limits, he told himself. She was forbidden. She would be horrified if she knew how often he’d imagined her while pleasuring himself, how he’d wondered how she would taste, how she would feel…

And now she was here, like a dream come to life. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t imagining all of this. He curled his finger inside her, watching her squirm, trying to grind against his touch. She was so wet already, her body giving away her own arousal.

“So greedy,” he teased, his teeth nipping at her neck. Though he longed to move his finger again, he forced his hand to still. “Yes, I think this is the part of the book you liked.”

“Mmm,” she mumbled. 

She wriggled against him. God, he couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sight than this; her back arching with pleasure, her breasts spilling over her chemise, revealing pink rosebud nipples still hard from his touch. Rumple pressed his thumb against her clit, easing his finger in and out of her, mimicking what he hoped to do to her later. She rocked in time to the movement, pressing her pelvis up against his hand. He could tell by her shallow breaths that Belle was close. His free hand explored the rest of her body, teasing and caressing, his fingernails ghosting down her spine until they met her backside.

He didn’t think he could stand it if this was a one-off thing, but he would try his hardest to make sure she enjoyed every moment of it all the same. Because Belle deserved everything he could give her and more.

So he sped up the rhythm of his strokes, his thumb flicking and pressing down in a way that drew out a stuttered gasp. He slowly eased a second finger inside her, relishing the way she stiffened and groaned. Belle’s teeth gnawed at her bottom lip as she fought to maintain control. Smirking, he circled her clit with his thumb one final time. 

He knew it would send her over the edge and it did. Belle fell apart, bowing against the back of her seat as her climax hit.

“God, Rumple,” she hissed out his name from between her clenched teeth.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
It took several moments for the waves of pleasure to stop crashing through her. Belle gave Rumplestiltskin a lazy smile.

“That was…” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t think there was a word in her vocabulary to describe how amazing that had felt. “Wow.”

The look Rumplestiltskin gave her almost melted her heart in her chest. His pupils were blown wide, the hunger in them evident, yet the quirk of his lips was almost uncertain, as if praise was the last thing he expected. 

Which was ridiculous, Belle thought. A bite of anger tainted the realization. Perhaps she’d never gone so far with a man before, but it didn’t take a genius to know that he was… well, talented, to say the least. It pained her that he didn’t seem aware of that fact.

She could change that. She would change that.

“Although, I don’t particularly like using past tense to describe what just happened,” she said, breath rushing out. She could feel her pulse hammering in her chest. Strange, that even while he was touching her, she’d never felt quite so vulnerable as she did now, wondering if he was about to crush her heart under the weight of rejection.

Truthfully, she didn’t know how she would be able to resume her life as Rumplestiltskin’s maid if he said no. Not while her stomach fluttered with desire and the evidence of her excitement was drying on her thighs. Gaston had never ever made her feel like this. Oh sure, he had leered at her and ran his hands up her leg under the dining table sometimes but… But Belle had never trembled at the contact. Never felt like she might shatter at his touch.

And she wanted her first time to be with someone kind. Someone who would respect her and kiss her and make her feel valued.

She wanted it to be with someone she could see herself falling for.

After months spent in the Dark Castle, watching him reveal the man behind the mask, she was finally starting to realize that she wanted that person to be Rumple.

Rumplestiltskin swallowed. He rose up on his knees so he could press his forehead against Belle’s own. This close, she could hear his ragged breathing as his chest heaved. Odd, that he had begun this adventure full of confidence. Belle stroked a hand through his hair. His mercurial nature never failed to surprise her. 

“Be careful what you say, Belle,” he whispered. “All teasing aside, I might just take you at your word.”

Belle sighed and pulled back an inch or two. Keeping her movements slow and sure, she brushed her lips across his, light as butterfly wings.

“I meant it,” she said. “Every word.”

He groaned against her, his chest rising and falling. “Are you—“

Belle pressed a finger against his lips to silence him.

“Don’t you dare ask if I’m certain,” she said. “I have never been more certain of anything in my life. I want you. I want you to kiss me and touch me and make love to me. And tomorrow I want to wake up and do it all over again because I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather do it with, Rumple—“

But she didn’t need to say another word, because Rumplestiltskin scooped her up in his arms. She just had time to register her surprise before he clicked his fingers and they appeared in his bedroom. 

She held on tight as Rumple carried her to the bed and lay her down.


	6. A Game of Kisses and Caresses

It had begun as a bit of a game.

Now, Belle realized it was nothing of the sort. Rumplestiltskin toed off his boots and climbed into the bed beside her. Her heart pounded as she leaned over to trace the lines of his face. The curve of his cheekbones, his narrow nose, the way his eyes seemed almost luminous in the darkness of the room. Though she could see well enough to notice how his eyelashes fluttered when she touched his skin and the way in which his lips half-parted.

No, this was nothing like a game. This was real, this heavy breathing and lust that threatened to carry her away on its waves. Belle’s mouth felt a little dry as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. He was wearing several complicated layers of fabric, spilling over his shirt like foam. Belle groaned in frustration as her fingers slipped over the fastenings.  
Rumplestiltskin evidently felt the same, because he made a strange noise in his throat and took over from her, his fingers nimble and quick. She drew him down the instant that he pulled his arms free of the shirt and dropped it to the ground. Her kisses were fierce and determined now, filling her with so much lightness that she was surprised she didn’t simply float on up to the ceiling. She trailed her hands and lips over his chest, admiring the way his muscles shifted under his skin, the sharp bones of his hips disappearing below the waistband of those leather trousers he wore. 

It struck her then that she’d never seen quite so much of a man before. Oh, she remembered Gaston strutting around her father’s castle, always seeming to bump into her right after bathing in the lake, so that his shirts were almost transparent, revealing the packed muscle underneath. But Belle had been quick to glance away whenever that happened, knowing that it was improper and that she shouldn’t give Gaston the satisfaction of her staring.

Belle’s gaze lingered over Rumplestiltskin now, amazed that he was so close, almost filling up her whole vision until nothing else remained. Gods, did he know how he made her stomach squirm with longing? She wanted to see more of him. Her hands skimmed down over his trousers, finding purchase in the leather around his thighs so she could pull him even closer. And only then did she realize that the material made the erection she felt pressing against her perfectly visible. Rumple gasped as she let her hands wander down over the stretched leather, fingers caressing and teasing.

She swallowed hard as Rumple stretched up and undid his belt. He tossed it to the floor, where it joined his shirt. He gave her a quick kiss before he pulled away from her and began to unbutton his trousers. Belle reclined on his bed and watched, wondering if it was possible to be undone simply by watching a man undress. The leather clung to his legs and it took several moments for him to peel himself free. And when he was finished, Belle realized that there had been no more clothing between those trousers and himself. She sucked in a breath at the length of him, at the thought of how it might feel when he slid inside her.

She would have liked to continue staring, but he gave a wicked grin and slid down over her. His kiss this time tasted wonderful, a flick of tongue and teeth that drove Belle crazy. She crushed herself to him until they were a tangle of limbs, both of them somehow sitting upright. The excitement she had felt in the main room grew again as he nuzzled her neck and pulled her dress over her head. Belle was left in only her chemise.

Around anyone else, she might have felt self-conscious enough to hide further in the shadows cast by the canopy over the bed. Since it was Rumplestiltskin though… she still felt herself blushing as he untied the lacing of her chemise, slowly. Goosepimples broke out over her skin at the intimacy of the movement as the satin fabric fell away from her body. He eased it up over her head and all of a sudden Belle found herself completely naked, lying in bed with a man.   
She wrapped her legs around his back as he lowered himself down over her.


	7. A Game of Happy Endings

And Belle is delicate and shivering with longing as she stares up at him, her eyes a strange mixture of trusting and beseeching.  
Please, they seem to say. I want this.

Almost drowning with the force of his desire, Rumplestiltskin nudged at her entrance and then slid deep inside her. Belle gritted her teeth against the pain of this first thrust, feeling something tight within her break. But Rumplestiltskin was infinitely gentle, kissing her forehead as he paused for a moment, silently asking her if she wanted to continue. She knew she could say no, that he would simply pull out of her and let her recover, let her have space if she needed it. But Belle didn’t want space. She wanted to be so entangled with him that they were no longer separate people. So instead she nodded.

Rumple hesitated a second longer before he thrust back inside her, a groan escaping from between his lips. It didn’t hurt so much now, Belle thought, as she moved to match his rhythm. In fact, she could feel something building up inside her that wasn’t the least bit like pain. She gasped as he slid into her again, far far too slow. She tightened her legs around his back, silently telling him that it was okay, that she wouldn’t break beneath him.

Faster, deeper. Belle’s breath hitched in her throat as he pounded into her, his mouth kissing every inch of her he could reach. Belle’s fingers tangled in his hair as her hips rose to match each stroke. Each one seemed deeper, until he was completely buried inside her. 

The thought burned through her mind and snapped the last of her control. Belle’s body went limp as release hit her. She writhed underneath him, almost sobbing from the pleasure crashing through her. A moment later, Rumple came, his breath a hiss as he collapsed on top of her. She could feel his shoulders shaking. Still delirious with the aftershocks of her orgasm, Belle reached out and kissed Rumplestiltskin; first on the tip of the nose and then gently on the mouth.

It was late morning when she finally awoke, stretched and turned over in bed. Her hand padded over the covers, coming to rest on Rumplstiltskin’s torso. She smiled to herself and wriggled a little closer to him. Above, the hangings were all in disarray. She could vaguely recall tugging on them last night, after they made love for the second time.   
She propped herself up on her elbow so she could get a better view of the man who had made her feel all those things. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and languorous but Belle knew that he was faking it. Still, she let him pretend. There was something so sweet about his attempt, as though he was determined to show her that he could be at peace. Belle’s grin widened and she pressed a kiss to his temple as she built up the resolve to get up and dressed again. 

She was just climbing out of bed, making painstaking, slow movements so as not to disrupt Rumple when he whispered, “Belle?”

“Morning,” she said, reaching down to pick up her dress. 

“You’re going?” He asked, his voice uncertain.

Surprise nestled on her shoulders as she turned to look at him. Did he really think that she would just gather her clothes and walk out of his room and pretend that last night hadn’t happened? 

Because if so, he was crazy. Belle would rather have fought off the Wicked Witch than run from whatever this was becoming. 

“Only to make breakfast,” she said.

The tension in his body fled. Belle couldn’t resist tumbling back down onto the bed so she could kiss him good morning properly, which took a lot longer than she expected it too, what with all the touching and gasping that followed. When they were finished, she made breakfast just as she promised, placing the toast rack, plates and tea set onto a tray so they could eat together in Rumple’s bedroom.

And to the tray, she added a new book. It took her a while to find the right one. After all, she thought to herself, as she carried the tray up the stairs, a reader lived a thousand lives.

But she was rather content with her own.


End file.
